Wishing on Dandelions
by insaneprincess
Summary: Because she's Lily; hair like fire and eyes like stars and years too young, the picture of innocence in her white lace dress at nine years old, begging him to make wishes on dandelions with her.


Disclaimer: Nope, I'm still not J.K. Rowling, or Paramore.

A/n: So, this definitely isn't my best work, seeing as it was written in about a half hour. But I haven't written anything in forever, and this was a bit of an experiment, seeing as I've never written Teddy/Lily, so anyways, I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are love.

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wishing on dandelions

_And if it ends today,_

_Well, I'll still say that you shine brighter, than anyone._

-Brighter, Paramore.

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Because she's _Lily_;

Hair like fire and eyes like stars and years too young, the picture of innocence in her white lace dress at nine years old, begging him to make wishes on dandelions with her.

And something must be wrong if he wants to stay here in the field and blow the seeds off of dandelions with her rather than making out with his ridiculously gorgeous Veela girlfriend, but it's true.

Because somehow Victoire becomes too smooth and silky, too much of clean edges and her own misguided attempts at perfection, a vague touch of arrogance to her otherwise sweet demeanour. He knows he's beginning to look for faults in her, and but even though he hates himself for it, he can't stop.

Because Lily is rough around the edges, and raw, and the most honest person he's ever met. She's blunt and blinding and such a burst of colour in his life and nevernevernever dull. When Victoire smells like vanilla perfume, Lily smells like smoke.

And it's driving him crazy.

So he stops coming around the Weasley clan for a while but that doesn't work either because they're all his family and he loves all of them.

All of them.

But mostly Lily.

But Merlin, it's so _wrong_. If he knows anything at all (although he's not at all sure that does) he knows that this is wrong.

He doesn't know why it happens, only that Victoire feels like his fairytale ending, the girl he's meant to be with, but her smiles only make him feel guilty and her kisses don't make him feel anything at all.

Her fingertips trail on his skin and he knows he's supposed to be shivering, amazed, crazy about her. She's beautiful, all pale blue eyes and glossy blonde hair and that touch of Veela charm, and when he was young and naïve, he _was_ crazy about her, but now…

Now, instead of laying in the sand with Victoire on the beach, he's making sandcastles with Lily, just inches from the waves, and charming them to stay even when the water crashes in. Now, instead of going out to dinner with Victoire, he's playing in the garden and treehouse with Lily and the thing is, he has no excuse, no explanation at all, but he wants to be there.

Lily has this spark in her, unlike anyone else. Lily holds the true meaning of magic, with those dazzling brown eyes and that melodic laughter. She makes him play house with her when she's young. She's the wife, cleaning up their treefort (and it's theirs now, not just hers) and he's the husband, home from a tiring day at the Ministry. She makes him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and they eat them as the sun sets and he hasn't felt so amazing in such a long time.

But he shouldn't have given in to all of it, he really shouldn't have. Because he's with an amazing girl (her cousin, her _cousin_) and Victoire's not stupid at all. He's stopped spending so much time with her and even though he loves her (because a part of him will always love Victoire, for her strength and her beauty and her charisma) it's so obvious that their relationship is meaningless.

They've been together for just over two years when he comes over that day and she's sitting quietly alone on the couch, her hands folded in her lap, not talking.

Before he can ask her what's wrong, she just says it, simply and plain. "I don't think we should be together anymore," she says without looking at him.

He chews on his bottom lip, surprised. "Why not?" he asks carefully, even though he already knows.

Victoire just looks up with him with a sad smile. "I always knew you loved her. I guess I just thought I could change your mind. But I can't keep being with you when you love someone else. It hurts too much."

He doesn't say anything, because he's speechless. He didn't think it was that clear, especially not to Victoire. Because Lily is fire, and he's a rock, and sure, she can't burn him, but he's never really believed that opposites work out. They're friends, just friends, and that's all they ever can be. But it scares him enough that Victoire knows and he's not going to be idiotic and say, "who?" because they both know it's Lily, it's always been Lily, and it always will be Lily.

Lily who dances in the rain and wakes up early so she can see sunrise, Lily who rescues the baby sparrow in the nest with the broken wing, Lily who runs down to the creek and tries to catch minnows with her bare hands, Lily who makes wishes on dandelions, Lily who plays hide and go seek with him and instead of being upset when he finds her particularly devious hiding spots laughs in pure delight. Lily. Lily with the fire in her hair and the stars in her eyes and the innocence in every angle of her body. Lily who's far too young and far too beautiful and far too fierce and far too perfect. _Lily_.

And this isn't the way him and Victoire are supposed to end, if they're even supposed to end at all. There's supposed to be a screaming argument, the fire of betrayal and broken bridges and palpable endings to some supposed happily-ever-after. They've been together too long for them to end so peacefully, so anti-climatically.

But the thing that makes him sure of this is the fact that they do end like this. If anything ended with Lily she'd scream and cry and hex him at least twice. But Victoire will sit on a couch and not look him in the eye and accept sadness, whereas Lily will curse the very idea of it.

The ironic part is that he's much more like Victoire, willing to accept what happens. But they can't both be that way, or there's no reason to fight for each other; and that's it, right now they're aren't fighting for each other. There isn't a single touch of passion.

So he leaves into the night, not the least bit disappointed, mind on eyes like stars. Because Victoire, and he himself are like picture frames, and Lily is the portrait. He's too simple for spotlights, while Lily has always held everyone's attention. Lily's a firework, and he's the night sky.

And the next morning at sunrise, Lily's out in the backyard like she always is. No one's heard the news about him and Victoire yet and he's appreciating the final few hours of normalcy. He slips into the yard with her. She's still wearing that white lace dress that reminds him that she's still years too young, far too innocent. The beginning of sunrise turns her face and hair into a myriad of golds and pinks.

"Teddy," she says, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah," he replies, falling into the grass beside her.

She turns to him, ripping a dandelion covered in a white ball of fluff and seeds from the ground and hands it to him, their morning ritual.

He smiles, closing his eyes to the gold of the sunrise and her beautiful brown eyes, and blows the seeds away, the wish so sweet and simple in his head.

"What did you wish for?" Lily asks eagerly when he opens his eyes, dimples forming as she grins.

He smiles, thinking of the wish he's whispered inside his mind every morning for the past few months, and kisses her on the forehead. "I can't tell you, Lily, because if I do, I'm scared it won't come true."

She bites her lip, looking up at him with something like hope in her eyes. "It must be something pretty important if you care that much about it coming true," she says.

He pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiles. "Yeah," he says. "I think it is."


End file.
